The Palmer Pool

14 | No Broken Record

The rhythmic sound of waves crashing onto a beach lulled me back into consciousness. I opened my eyes to a tall canopy of rustling leaves and turned onto my side. I had no idea how long I'd been sleeping on a quilt in the shade, but I wished I had been at least semi-conscious when Pete carried me there to know how it felt to be in his arms.

We must have been driving a while because the river had widened into Lake Huron and Canada's shoreline was replaced by a watery horizon.  The cottage behind me was cute; with a fieldstone chimney and colorful flower beds.  Pete was nowhere in sight.

From the top of the steep wooden staircase that led down to the beach, I spotted him at the edge of the water, skipping stones. He had cuffed his jeans and taken off his button-down, leaving a plain white undershirt. Sally was splashing around in the water, chasing ducks. I descended the stairs to the warm sand that barked with each step as my heels dug in. His next stone skipped seven times.

"Nice one!" I called out.

He spun around to face me. The wind had loosened up his normally neat hair and his face broke into a wide smile.

"How'd you sleep?"

"Great. Thanks for hooking me up with an ideal napping spot." The crease in his forehead hinted that he was contemplating asking another question. He probably wanted to know why I had a tendency to randomly fall asleep, but he kept it to himself. "So, where are we exactly?"

"That's my family's cottage. We're a couple miles north of Lexington."

"It's perfect," I said, looking out at the lake. "This is exactly where I wanted to go, but I didn't know it."

"Are you feeling up for a walk?"

"Definitely."

We walked along the hard packed sand at the water's edge, the foamy borders of thinning waves lapping at our feet. Near the lake the haze of humidity lifted and every ripple of water was crystal clear and each glint of sunlight on the lake razor sharp. There was a breeze and the air was fresh and clean with a trace of the damp scent of marine life. I inhaled deeply and felt a surge of happiness.

"I love Lake Huron. Lake Michigan gets all the attention for, you know, the pristine, wide sandy beaches and dunes. But I like Lake Huron for all its rocky beaches and jetties and little secluded spots. It feels more rugged and real, you know?"

"I've never been to Lake Michigan, but I think I know exactly what you mean."

"Really? Where's the furthest from home you've ever been?" I asked impulsively.

"Probably Briggs Stadium," he said with a self-conscious grimace.

"What's that?"

"Briggs Stadium?" He looked shocked. "It's where the Tigers play."

"Oh, yeah, that's right."

The Detroit Tigers didn't play at Briggs anymore, the old stadium had been torn down and I bit my lip to keep that fact to myself.

"How about you? Already I know you've been further than I have."

"Well," I hesitated, "my mom took me to London for Spring Break this year."

"London, England?"

I nodded.

"Wow. That's unreal. What's it like there?"

"It's beautiful. The buildings, the landscaping in the parks, the statues, the bridges, they're all ornate and well cared for and really lovely. You can feel the history everywhere you go. And it's humming with energy, you feel like you're in a place where things happen. I'd love to live there someday."